Bagging Poem

There are those who do not
Love a bag, fact of life,
Resisting change, who got
Shorted one time or other.

Reusable shopping bag
Saving the planet one
Bag at a time will sag
Unless supported on

Both sides, an all-around
Proposition propped
Up by the checker and
Shopper cooperatively,

And so we set the bag
Handles apart between
Us holding each one hand
The other stuffing in.

"The only problem," he
says, "is you have to hold
Them on both sides." Could be
An opportunity,

I say. He shakes his head,
"Too many hours a day."
And still time gets away.
He bends to stretch his back.

He looks old, tired, sad sack
Sorry to be there checking
And bagging groceries
But lacking springtime mischief

I shoulder my full bag
Forgetting change, the coins,
Distracted by these thoughts.
For values lead the mind

And what we treasure will
Always spare moments fill.

KLK

Something Someone Should Have Said

Perhaps you prefer
A gossamer gowned gal
A mincing maiden
Perfume tainted
Jewelry laden
Cosmetic painted
Adorned in gold

Suddenly old

To a man in armor
Camouflaged and blood spattered
Bursting through the wall
In the middle of a barrage
In the middle of a battle
Missing his legs
And half his head

Suddenly dead

She screams half-heartedly
Her baubles jingle
Sorry to break up your bordello
It's just as well though

The song of simple statements gussied up
Like horny women who want to get laid
Rather than honorable mention is in fashion
More product of emotion than expression of passion
Lousy music on deaf ears
Delivered careless of childish fears
Only the wind

Suddenly shrill

The poetry is like music
On those sad bastard radio stations
Monotonous tunes of adolescent disaffection
That sometimes evolves into the
Middle-age woman or skinny man
Eating sprouts and posing
Doing the splits while fasting for

Peace on Earth

Thinking airhead
Acting narcissistic
Believing altruism
Expressing narcissism out of confusion of the origins of motivation
What moves them to feel
Residuals of infancy
Someone didn't love me I think

Not knowing what is real

And what is mere imagination unfettered
The center cannot hold
The band plays on without an audience or ear
While a dry wind blows tumble weeds
Across an empty road
The poet is empty
As the wind in an empty place

In space

An empty road
The poet is an empty barrel
Who sounds a loud dry belch
Himself becomes in the same breath
A rattling bush
Rolling across a mirrored landscape
Where lotus eaters languish and children anguish

To hear rusty hinges whine

KLK

Six Figure

Years ago a friend asserted six
Figures was the point and nothing less.
Of course we didn't make that much. No, wait,
Yes, we did only after selling much,
Much more, a chance to make six figures, sure.
Six figures was the point and nothing more.

One meeting I walked up to the front desk,
The woman felt compelled to tell me she
Was a PhD, seemed a bit unraveled,
And I refrained from mentioning my masters,
Reflecting on the ways we both had traveled
To get consideration for success.

Recently I approached another woman.
We're happy with AT&T. That's great.
We know they have TWC. No, they don't.
Yes, we saw them dig up the street a year
Ago, know it all, no, nothing to say.
Say thanks, have a nice day and walk away.

Using the handicapped stall, was surprised
To find an old man waiting with his walker.
Sorry, sir, I said exiting bewildered.
A friend was ready with advice and cheer
And offered me a seat, bought me a beer.
That guy must be rich. Look at that girl, he's

Got to be wealthy. Sure, he's got to be filthy.
Even with practice, getting in a groove
You find it's really more a rut, my dear.
Practice does not make perfect without chance.
Don't worry over rotten luck, although
Lacking luck makes tough finding the right dough.

KLK
05/18/14